


Blood Falls Where Your Tears Run Dry (or, Baby Sing Me To Sleep)

by shoestringjoe



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Sad Louis, a couple of lyrics here and there, idk how to tag for shit, mention of self harm, smut or something i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoestringjoe/pseuds/shoestringjoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis stopped dead in his tracks. The boy's voice was beautiful, he decided. It was rough, but soft at the edges, and amazingly soulful. Whatever he felt just now had faded into a calm ebb, and he could feel the boy’s gaze burning at his back, but he didn’t turn around. Later at night, when he couldn't sleep, he remembers the flash of green eyes and rough honeyed voice and before he knew it, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about nothing but a sea of pitch black.</i>
</p><p>or, an au where Louis drowns in his own thoughts far too many times, only to be resurfaced by a boy with curly hair, who happens to sing well and sleep around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Falls Where Your Tears Run Dry (or, Baby Sing Me To Sleep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daintilyharry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintilyharry/gifts).



> It's my first fic guys so any feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction nor do I know anything about them that I applied in this fic, it's purely fictional. Hmm oh I also don't know much about depression, clubbing or sex, so I apologise if it's a bit lacking. All in all, I hope you enjoy it one way or another!
> 
> WARNING: Slight trigger warnings if you're sensitive but it's not too bad, just brief mentions. Also, swear words (obviously).

 

 

  
++  
  
" _Look at the stars,_

 _Look how they shine for you._ "

\- Coldplay

  
++  
  
Louis arrived on Zayn’s doorstep a few minutes past midnight. It was freezing out, and he was exhausted. But he was glad to be back. It has been a while since he’d left London. And now he’s back with a small suitcase, an address, and no money.   
  
The door rattled a good five seconds before a really pissed off boy appeared at the door.  
  
“What the fu-“The boy grumbled, but stopped when his eyes fell upon Louis. “Louis?!”  
  
Louis smiled wanly at the dark-skinned boy and shrugged. “Hi,” he said softly.  
  
Zayn pulled Louis into a hug, and Louis hugged him back, his nose buried into Zayn’s messed-up hair, inhaling the familiar scent of cinnamon and cologne and tobacco. He wanted to say how much he missed him, but his voice was stuck in his throat and all that came out was a choked sob.  
  
Zayn pulled away first, but only to properly look at Louis, see how the lines beneath the boy’s eyes seem to have faded a little, and there were no bandages around his wrists and fingers. He pulled Louis into another short hug before clearing his throat and inviting him in. 

  
Louis vaguely remembered the flat, considering how he had shared this room with Zayn for two full years before he was whisked back to Doncaster. It seemed a bit different, somehow.  
  
“It looks a bit different,” Louis quipped, putting his bags onto the floor with a thud. “Carpeting?”  
  
“Nah mate,” Zayn smiled sadly. “Same old, maybe you were gone too long.”  
  
Louis bit his lip and stared at the floor. “Yeah, yeah maybe.”  
  
“Want some tea?”  
  
“It’s okay I’m too tired anyways.”  
  
Zayn nodded. “So how are you? You look.. you look great.”  
  
“I’m good, yeah,” Louis grinned. “They said as long as I did what they told me to I’d be fine, yeah.”  
  
“So are you back, like, for good?”  
  
“I hope so. Wouldn’t want to be back with the crazies now would I?” Louis laughed.  
  
“You know I don’t think you are crazy, Louis.”  
  
“Yeah. Well.”  
  
“I missed you a lot, you know?”  
  
“I miss you too.”  
  
“So why didn’t you like call me or anything you wanker?”  
  
“I, um,” Louis said sheepishly. “I wanted to surprise you?”  
  
“Bloody right you surprised me-“  
  
There was a sudden bang before someone stormed down the stairs, holding a broken lamp. “Zayn, I’m sorry I-“ The stranger stared at Louis, who in turn, was equally confused, but a hint of amusement lined his smile.  
  
“Louis this is Liam,” Zayn said hurriedly. “Liam, this is Louis.”  
  
Louis smiled, but his eyes crinkled mischievously. “I’ve seen you before… weren’t you the one Zayn couldn’t shut up about last year?”  
  
A startling red coloured both Liam and Zayn’s cheeks and Louis laughed.   
  
“Liam became my roommate, after you, you know… when you left.”  
  
“Zayn," Louis said, pretending to be offended. "I can’t believe you replaced me!”  
  
Zayn looked a bit miserable at that, and Liam’s face fell, but Louis nudged his friend's shoulder playfully. He held out his hand to a bewildered Liam and smiled. “Hiya, I’m Louis, but you already know that. Zayn Malik’s best friend for five years, at your service.”  
  
Liam’s eyes widened. “Oh. I thought- Oh wait yeah Louis Tomlinson, right? Zayn has mentioned you before.”  
  
“Has he now?” Louis smirked at Zayn. “Lovely things I hope?”  
  
“Always the loveliest,” Zayn laughed. “And Liam, babe, it’s okay just throw the lamp away or something.”  
  
“It’s lovely to see you, Louis.” Liam said softly.  
  
Louis watched Liam stalk into the kitchen and his heart crumpled a little when he sees the fond smile Zayn threw in that direction. It has been a while since anyone has looked at him that way. It was always frustration, or even worse, sympathy.  
  
“So, uh,” Louis asked tentatively. “Does this mean I can’t stay?”  
  
“What, and make you go back to Doncaster?” Zayn huffed indignantly. “You’re staying. You know I’m never allowing you to go back to that hellhole.”  
  
Louis laughed. “I’m not really planning to.”  
  
“But are you, um, continuing with school?”  
  
Louis bit his lip and mumbled something about a gap year, which was bullshit. Zayn knew. In actual fact, Louis didn’t feel like going to school anymore. Too many memories, too many reminders.  
  
He just wasn’t ready for it yet. So he said something about finding a job somewhere and Zayn said that the music shop three streets away is looking for some young lad who knows their music well, and, well, Louis’ music taste is not too shit.  
  
So they made plans for tomorrow (thank God it’s the weekends), and Liam showed Louis the guest room, and later that night, Louis stared into the darkness.  
  
He was tired but he couldn’t sleep. He just couldn’t bring himself to.  
  
And as the tendrils of night time faded into the sunrise at dawn, Louis feels as awake as he did hours ago.  
  
++  
  
The next morning, Louis ate a couple of pancakes Liam made for the three of them, took his medication, and left to find the music store. It was a nice weather out, not too freezing, but he had his hands in his pockets and he still shivered against the occasional wind. He knows the area well, being here for five years and counting. But the shop was apparently new and Louis had to walk around a bit before he came across a boy about his age (or younger, Louis couldn’t really tell) sitting at a corner on the pavement, a guitar in his hand and a straw hat in front of him.  
  
Normally, Louis would’ve just walked past, but it was something about the boy that made him stand in the corner and watch. The boy had a head full of brown curls, which Louis was tempted to reach out and touch, and dimples as deep as the Marianas trench when the younger boy smiled at his small audience. His eyes met Louis’ and Louis looked away.  
  
He started to leave when he heard the boy sing.  
  
“ _Now you were standing there right in front of me_  
 _I hold on it's getting harder to breathe"_  
  
Louis stopped dead in his tracks. His voice was beautiful, Louis decided. It was rough, but soft at the edges, and amazingly soulful. Whatever he felt just now had faded into a calm ebb, and he could feel the boy’s gaze burning at his back, but he didn’t turn around.

 _"All of a sudden these lights are blinding me_  
 _I never noticed how bright they would be_ …”

Instead, Louis leaned against the wall, his back still towards the green-eyed stranger, sighing. He waited until the song ended. He could hear the smattering round of applause and coins, and then he left.  
  
++  
  
Louis got the job.  
  
Apparently they desperately needed someone who knew how to differentiate between Linkin Park and Coldplay and bloody hell if Louis didn’t know how to. He wasn’t a huge fan of them, but he knew his shit and he knew how to man a till. So it was set. Louis would work three days a week for twelve hours, including opening the shop and closing it at nine, and well Louis wasn’t too bothered because the shop seemed empty anyway.  
  
The boy wasn’t there when he walked back. He was a bit disappointed, but it was six and he hadn’t really expected the boy to be there for four hours anyway. It was a bit nippy that afternoon and the ground was cold. So Louis trudged home, a frown etched on his face, his thoughts flitting back to the boy and the guitar and the voice.  
  
That night, Louis was wide awake. He couldn’t help it. Every time he closes his eyes, he’d hear his mother’s screams ringing through the night as a sharp smack followed by the bang of the front door ensued. And then he’d jolt awake. It was always like that. But then he remembered a flash of green eyes and rough honeyed voice and he felt himself relax. And before he knew it, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about nothing but a sea of pitch black.  
  
++  
  
On Wednesday, Louis waved Zayn and Liam off, both of whom were leaving for their afternoon classes, and Louis got ready for work. He donned a pair of black skinnies, his favourite, a The Fray shirt, and a beanie. He pulled a cardigan over his tee, a worn but well-loved piece of clothing he first bought when he moved. The weather’s still shit in London, and even after a week of returning to the city, the weather is one thing that he didn’t miss at all.  
  
The boy was there again when Louis reached the street. He seemed to have only gotten there a couple minutes ago, since Louis exited the house a half hour earlier than usual. The boy looked up and saw Louis standing in the middle of the pathway, and smiled. Louis blushed. After a moment of staring, the boy beckoned Louis over. Louis looked at him, confused, but walked over anyway. He willed himself not to say something stupid.  
  
“’m Harry,” the curly boy said. “Harry Styles.”  
  
“Louis. Tomlinson,” Louis mumbled, trying to focus on his shoes, the granite on the sidewalk, well, anywhere besides the boys’ eyes, really.  
  
“Been seeing you around here a lot lately,” Harry noted. “But never seen you before last couple weeks.”  
  
“I’ve just um, got back to town,” Louis replied. He got tired, though, of just standing, plus he’s got about twenty minutes to spare. He glanced at the space beside Harry and asked, “mind if I sit with you for a bit? I’m a bit early for work anyway.”  
  
Harry shrugged, moving to his side a little, and Louis winced a little as he sat down on the cold pavement.  
  
“It’s freezing.”  
  
“Yeah, well, if I wore those skinny jeans I’d be freezing off my arse, too, and well, it’d be a shame if your bum got frozen off.” Harry winked cheekily, and Louis felt his cheeks heating up.  
  
“What are you playing today?” Louis asked, trying to ignore Harry’s comment.  
  
“Dunno, probably a bit of The Script or The Fray.”  
  
Louis’ eyes light up at the mention of his favourite band. “You listen to The Fray?”  
  
“Yeah well, they’re pretty good. I especially liked Look After You. I mean, You Found Me is pretty great too, but the song comes a close second, I guess.”  
  
“Mmmm,” Louis hums in agreement. He suddenly felt awkward again, so he looked away from Harry and concentrated on twisting his fingers on his lap.  
  
“Wanna join me sing?”  
  
Louis blushed. “I don’t-  I don’t um, sing.”  
  
“Okay, well, but,” Harry said as he slung the guitar across his legs. “you know the words, yeah? Sing along if you want.”  
  
And as Harry sang, Louis revelled in the way the younger boy’s voice melted in his ears, how his face looks so blissful Louis wanted to kiss him, how his soft curls fell across his forehead, and the way Louis felt so fond of this kid he only met about seven minutes ago.  
  
When Harry finished singing “Six Degrees Of Separation” by The Script, he turned and looked at Louis, who had to quickly turn his head away, suddenly realising that he had been staring at him for fifteen minutes straight.  
  
“Y’alright, mate?” Louis could hear the amused tone in Harry’s voice.  
  
“That was pretty good.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
And as they smiled at each other, Louis felt as if something in him lit up, as if something was going to happen. And yeah, maybe it scares him a little, but he was happy, and he wasn’t going to let that feeling go.  
  
++  
  
The next day, Louis bought two coffees and sat with Harry again. 

It went on for days, and neither questioned another, and one week led to three.  
  
++  
  
“Would you like to go out with me? Have dinner?”  
  
Louis looked up and his breath hitched when he sees a pair of bright green eyes staring intensely at him. He felt all jittery, suddenly, and panic settled in his system.   
  
Yes, he thinks. “I um, I can’t.” Louis replied, looking at his hands. “I’m not… I’m not looking for anything at the moment.”  
  
They were too close, too close for Louis. He felt suffocated.  
  
He hears Harry sigh. “It’s okay. I’m just sorry for asking, yeah?”  
  
The older boy nodded, but he didn’t say anything.  
  
Harry must’ve noticed something was wrong but before he could say anything, Louis jumped up and mumbled something about heading off to work.  
  
And, well, Louis felt like shit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go out with Harry, he just  _can’t_.   
  
Louis never walked that same route ever since.  
  
++  
  
The door rang when Louis looked up from just finished counting the money they made for today. He was going to say the usual “sorry, shop’s closed” when his eyes met a very familiar pair of eyes. Oh.  
  
“Hello,” Harry smiled lazily. Louis almost died right there and then, not that he’d admit it, not even to himself. “Can you help me find a CD? It’s for a friend.”  
  
“Sure,” Louis mumbled. “What kind does your friend listen to?”  
  
“Do you think you’ve got those kinda slow instrumental songs?”  
  
Louis looked up from his fringe and sighed, contemplating. “I guess so? Come on, follow me.”  
  
The two of them walked over to the aisle on the far right, and Louis pulled out a record from the shelf. “Reckon your friend will like this though? I don’t know much about this kinda instrumental.”  
  
Harry held the records in his hands (which are huge, Louis noticed), and looked at Louis, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Actually… it was for me, I heard it’s a good genre to get off on.”  
  
 _Oh._  Louis brushed his fringe out of his eyes, his cheeks blushing a furious shade of scarlet. “Um, I- I don’t, um, I don’t know?” He spluttered.

Harry laughs at Louis’ reaction, amused. “I was  _joking_ , Louis.”  
  
“Idiot.” The older boy harrumphed, looking up at Harry through his glasses. Harry was smiling dopily at him, his eyes flashing a bright green like evergreens in spring, pine trees in summer, and algae in winter. Louis couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his frown. A giggle escaped his lips, and his hands flew up to his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers.  
  
“Louis?” A loud voice called for Louis, and Louis and Harry sprang apart.  
  
“Hey, Stan, I’m here, with a customer,” Louis replied weakly. He sidestepped the younger boy and headed for the register, where Stan was standing near the entrance. “I was just closing up the shop when this kid entered, so.”  
  
“Okay…” Stan said, his eyes flitting between Louis and Harry. “Anyway I popped in to say that I won’t be able to make it till the evening tomorrow, so I’m hoping you could run the store till then?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, I’ve nothing planned anyway.”  
  
“That’s great, but hey if anyone asks about the Bob Marley album, tell them it’s out of stock. I’m holding it for my girlfriend.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Alright, great, see you tomorrow, Lou?”  
  
“Bye, Stan.”  
  
“Bye, Lou.”  
  
Harry cleared his throat as soon as Stan left the shop, his smile still sitting on his face, but it has slipped a bit around the corners, making it a seem a bit sad. But it was honestly so endearing. Louis wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill him or himself.  
  
“So, um, I noticed you don’t walk the route past me anymore?” Harry asked, his eyes cast downwards. “Did I do something wrong?”  
  
“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I had to do coffee runs?”  
  
“There is a café right in front of the street where you buy those caramel lattes?”  
  
“I felt like going in a different direction.”  
  
Louis hears Harry sigh, but it was quiet, like Louis wasn’t meant to hear it. He could hear his head going  _just do it, say you’re sorry so you can get over it, just fucking kiss him already,_ but he couldn’t.  
  
He stepped behind the register, ringing up Harry’s purchase, and silently took the five dollar bill Harry gave him. He didn’t look up, not when he gave Harry his change, not when Harry muttered a silent ‘bye’, not when the door rang when Harry left.  
  
He turned around and leaned against the table, closing his eyes, and let his heart slow down from the quick thumping it did ever since Harry entered the shop.  
  
++  
  
“Lou,” a voice whispered. Louis burrowed deeper into the sheets, not wanting to get up. He felt like shit. He felt like absolute and utter shit. It was as if someone had decided that Louis would take on everyone’s shitty feels and let him be. He couldn’t move, his limbs pressed down into the bed. He could feel Zayn hovering beside him, and someone (Liam, probably) said that he had made some tea and would Louis like to have some.  
  
Louis choked back a sob that threatened to escape his shuddering body.  
  
He could feel a pair of warm hands nudge him again, and Louis let them slip the blankets off of him. He couldn’t see much from the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He didn’t move.  
  
He could feel Zayn sitting at the edge of his bed, his mattress creaking a bit at the weight. “Louis,” Zayn pleaded a second time. “Louis, what’s wrong?”  
  
Louis didn’t know. Well, he did, but he couldn’t remember what had triggered it. He tried to remember if it was a dream he had, or something else. His throat felt dry, and he was starving, but he couldn’t move.  
  
He could hear a rattle at his bedside as Liam set down a tray of waffles. “You’ve gotta eat something, Lou. It’s almost night time and I can tell you haven’t been out of bed when we left for college.” Liam spoke, his tone concerned.  
  
A few moments passed, but Louis didn’t move from his fetal position, his pajamas bunched up at his legs and stomach as he stared at the tray in front of him. He watched Zayn stand up and lift the tray, sitting beside Louis.  
  
“I’ll feed you, okay?” Zayn smiled, but his eyes were sad. Louis hated it when he made Zayn sad. He wanted to say sorry, but he just nodded, his eyes still half closed from all the crying. A few bites later, they left the room to let Louis sleep some more, maybe he’d feel better tomorrow. Louis hopes he does.  
  
He was so, so tired, but he couldn’t sleep. He thought about yesterday, and the boy with the soft brown curls and the stupid green eyes that shone like diamonds, and he felt a tug in his heart. He had missed his chance, probably. He remembered how nice it felt sitting next to Harry, just listening when the other boy sings his heart out, how warm and how safe. As if nothing could come crashing down anymore, like everything will be okay. And as his mind flitted back to the first time he saw Harry, he could feel himself relax a little, just enough to pull him under. That night, he dreamed of green, and fuzziness, and happy.  
  
++  
  
Three days later, Louis woke up, and he almost jumped off his bed when he felt as if a huge load of shit has been raked off him. He felt sore, from not moving much the last few days, but calmer. A bit manic even, but he waved it off. He tiptoed down the stairs, and saw that Liam and Zayn hadn’t even woken up yet. He went through the kitchen cupboards, humming as he took out pans and pots and plates.  
  
A minute after he nearly turned the kitchen upside down, a very sleepy and grouchy Zayn appeared, a bat in his hand.  
  
“Um,” Louis said when he saw him.  
  
Zayn’s eyes snapped open when he realised it was Louis. “Louis, what the fuck are you doing?”  
  
“Cooking breakfast,” Louis said simply. He returned to cracking open several eggs into the bowl. Zayn eyed him warily, as if Louis was someone else. Maybe he was.  
  
“You know it’s half past five, right?”  
  
Louis paused, and eventually shrugged. He could hear the clock in the living room go  _tick tick tick_  as he focused his attention on the eggs. He could feel Zayn’s gaze burning into his head. The kitchen was filled with a heavy fog of questions, questions Louis couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.  
  
“How are you?” Zayn asked, finally, his voice slurred from sleep, but Louis can hear the concern lining his voice. He looked up from whisking and shrugged for the second time.  
  
“’m fine, Zayn.”  
  
“That’s good, that’s great, in fact. Yeah.”  
  
More silence.  
  
“I really am, though, Zayn, go back to sleep.” Louis broke the silence. If he was feeling like a kid on Christmas morning just a couple minutes ago, he felt like Santa Claus the day after Christmas now.  
  
Zayn nodded, but he looked at Louis a couple more minutes before heading back up, reminding Louis to “please take your pills, Louis” and “I love you.”  
  
Louis frowned as he turned his back against the entrance of the kitchen, pouring the eggs into a pan. Yeah, okay, pills. He didn’t mention to Zayn how he hadn’t been taking them lately, simply because he didn’t feel like he needed to. He hadn’t felt anywhere near shitty before the past few days, not when a certain person with dimples and a certain tendency to make stupid jokes has appeared in his life.  
  
But now Louis wasn’t so sure anymore.  
  
So yeah, maybe he’ll take his pills.  
  
Maybe.  
  
++  
  
Harry walked up the street, humming to himself. He was tired, and a bit sore. He had a rough night last night. Niall was out of town, which meant that he had nowhere to stay for the night. So he had headed to the club near Fisher Avenue.  
  
The club was already so full when he reached. It was barely even midnight. He slid into the stool at the bar and ordered himself a shot. He was going to pay when a hand reached out and said “it’s on me.”  
  
Harry turned around to face the stranger, who was smiling at the younger lad. He looked about a year older than Harry, three years at most, with dark hair and even darker eyes.  
  
“Y’alright, love?”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
“Your pretty face doesn’t seem to say you’re alright. Girlfriend fucked you over?”  
  
“I’m not attached to anyone,” Harry shrugged. “Well, not since I broke up with my boyfriend two months ago.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
The man lifted his eyebrow, before unabashedly looking at Harry up and down, checking him out.  
  
Harry smirked. “Like what you see?”  
  
The man snorted, taking a sip from his jack and coke, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s.  
  
Harry tipped the shot of vodka into his mouth, careful to slowly lick his lips, not breaking eye contact with the stranger. He downed a couple more drinks and he felt fuzzy and warm. He cocked his head to the dance floor, and the two of them headed towards the mass of gyrating bodies.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
“Harry!” Harry shouted through the din.  
  
“I’m Nick!” the man shouted back.  
  
The music intensified as Harry and Nick moved closer on the dance floor, Harry grinding shamelessly on Nick. The older boy panted lightly in Harry’s ears, and Harry took it as an approval. He spun around and hooked his arms around Nick’s shoulders, their chests flush against each other’s. Nick put his hands low on Harry’s back.  
  
The pair moved to the beat of the music, panting into each other’s ears before they find themselves in each other’s mouths, lips slotting sloppily and desperately. Harry pushed his tongue into Nick’s, and the older boy didn’t hesitate to jerk his hips to meet Harry’s.  
Harry gasped, breaking the kiss, and Nick trailed his tongue across Harry’s neck.  _Fuck_  it felt so good. The pair rubbed against each other, and Harry felt himself hardening through his very tight jeans.  
  
He was drunk, and he was very turned on, and he knew Nick was too, judging from the way his cock is pressing against Harry’s thighs. Their lips met again in a frenzied kiss, and Harry slotted his legs between Nick’s. He rutted against the other’s thighs, and both moaned when their crotches fell into alignment.  
  
Harry hadn’t gotten laid in over a week and he was gasping in quick breaths as Nick explored deeper into his mouth. The older boy gripped his curls, and Harry moaned.  
  
“Back to mine?” Nick said into Harry’s mouth.  
  
“Fuck,” he gasped, as their ruts quickened. “Fuck, yeah, okay.”  
  
He followed Nick out the club, and into his car. It wasn’t an awkward ride, despite both of them being hard. In five minutes or so, they reached Nick’s apartment and, well, they barely made it out of the elevator.  
  
++  
  
Louis wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he missed Harry. Not in any specific way, but just that he missed sitting on the cold sidewalk which doesn’t feel all that cold when he was with Harry. So he decided that screw it, he’s just going to walk up his usual route and find Harry.  
  
As usual, Louis left after Zayn and Liam left, and he shivered a bit as soon as he left the house. It was very near winter, and the air was crisp and chilly. Louis had pulled on a worn, dark grey pea coat, slipped into a pair of his thickest jeans, and boots. He had also decided to wear his grey beanie, which he pulled low, just below his ears. It was still bloody freezing, so Louis headed to the nearest café and found himself ordering two cups of caramel latte.  
  
He turned the corner and headed up the street, but he didn’t see Harry anywhere. Louis suddenly felt very silly holding two cups so he headed for the trash, almost chucking it when he sees a mane of curls appear from the corner.  
  
“Louis?” Harry said when he saw the boy.  
  
Harry looked dishevelled, with his hair sticking up at weird angles, and his clothes were wrinkled at a few places, as if he just woke up from having a rough night. Louis didn’t want to think too much of it.  
  
“Um, hi?” Louis waved awkwardly, 1. Because he was holding two cups, and 2. Because he probably seemed creepy waiting around in the middle of the street.  
  
He walked over to Harry, who was just sitting down on the sidewalk, but stopped when he was a few feet away, as if asking for permission. Harry smiled up at him, so Louis took it as a yes. He winced when he sat down, and mumbled something about “the bloody ass sidewalk always so fucking cold all the time”.  
  
“So,” Harry drawled, his voice deeper and rougher than the last time Louis saw him. “I didn’t know you were into caffeine.”  
  
Louis blinked at him, but realised he was referring to his two cups of grandes in his hands. “Oh, um, I brought one for you.” he said meekly.  
  
He brought the cup to Harry, who took it gratefully, and moaned when he took a first sip. Louis squirmed in his spot, looking out at the road, ignoring the way Harry’s adam’s apple bob up and down, and the sound of coffee going down his throat in loud gulps. Louis definitely did  _not_  notice that.  
  
“Thanks, Lou.” Harry said, wiping his sleeve across his mouth.  
  
“You’re welcome. You look like shit, by the way.”  
  
Harry laughed, but it wasn’t one to suggest that he was offended by it. And Louis was gone, he was long gone.  
  
“Thanks, mate.”  
  
The silence that followed wasn’t too awkward as Harry slung his guitar strap on his shoulders and Louis sipped on his latte. It was comfortable, even. And Louis didn’t ask why Harry looked like he got run over by a truck, because he had a feeling that the boy would have told him if he wanted to. And Harry didn’t ask Louis why he was sitting next to him, so it was pretty good.  
  
Harry started strumming the opening chords of a song, and Louis smiled as he recognises it as The Script’s Breakeven. He hummed along quietly when Harry entered the verse, but decided to sing along to the chorus. His slightly higher-pitched voice harmonised gently with Harry’s deep vocals, and Harry turned to look at him, his eyes shining a bit brighter when he realised the older boy singing.  
  
“ _What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you,_  
 _And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up that you're ok_  
 _I'm falling to pieces, yeah,_  
 _I'm falling to pieces_ ”  
  
A crowd has begun to gather, but the both of them stared at each other, completely oblivious until the song ended and everyone applauded lightly. Louis looked away, his cheeks tinged red. He waited for the feeling of regret, but he felt none. In fact, he felt lighter than before, and yeah, he was pretty glad he decided to sing along.  
  
“I thought you didn’t sing,” Harry said, as he fiddled with the guitar.  
  
“I haven’t in a long while,” Louis replied quietly. He finished his cup and walked over to the trash can, chucking it in. He walked back over to where Harry sat, settling back at his spot, leaning against the walls of the building behind him. He stole a glance at Harry, when he saw a small, dark bruise at the side of Harry’s neck.  
  
A lovebite.  
  
Louis snapped his attention to the street, where cars pass by them in hurried blurs, people walking in every direction, but Louis’ stare focused on one. He doesn’t know why he was even affected by that. Surely Harry had a girlfriend (or boyfriend). Of course he fucking does. He could feel Harry’s gaze on him now, making him slightly uncomfortable.  
  
“I’ve got to go,” Louis finally said, standing up. He dusted his pants and looked at Harry, who was still gazing at him with his eyes, a confused look on his face but nodded anyway.  
  
“Well, you were pretty great. Thought you should know that. I’ll see you around, Louis.”  
  
Louis bit his lip and nodded, before heading away from the boy. And as he walked away, he hears Harry sing Fix You, and Louis almost turned around. But he didn’t.  
  
++  
  
“So who is it?”  
  
Zayn slipped onto the couch beside Louis.  
  
Louis looked at Zayn, confused. “What?”  
  
“You have the look of a smitten twelve year old girl.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “And you totally blushed when I asked.”  
  
“No one,” Louis mumbled. He turned his attention back to his Doritos and Pride and Prejudice.  
  
“Lou, I just-“  
  
“No, Zayn,” Louis suddenly interrupted. “I don’t have a fucking crush on anyone alright and if I do it’s none of your fucking business. What happened won’t happen again okay? Fuck. Can’t I lead a normal life? Can’t I fucking like someone? Without you telling me what to do and what not to? I know how to take care of my life. Jesus Christ!”  
  
His best friend was looking at him calmly, waiting for Louis to come down from his burst of anger.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Zayn said after a moment.   
  
“No, I was being stupid,” Louis sniffled.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Zayn smoothing Louis' hair and Louis listening to Zayn's heartbeats. Louis loved moments like these, where he feels safe and secure in Zayn's arms, like how they did years and years ago. Like when Louis left home when his parents separated, when Louis got bullied in school when he came out, when Louis realised that he had pulled tufts of hair off his scalp a few years ago.

“His name’s Harry." Louis finally said.  "And he’s fucking beautiful, Zayn.”

  
Zayn tugged at Louis’ wrists and Louis moved closer, leaning his head on Zayn shoulders as he cried, tears of anger and frustration and mainly disappointment at himself for being too fucking weak all the time.  
  
Zayn kissed Louis’ forehead and said that he’ll make Louis a cup of tea and that it will be okay because Louis is strong and Zayn and Liam are here if he needed anything. And Louis lets him. He accepts the cup of steaming earl grey that Zayn brought in a few minutes later, and Zayn stroked his hair, and they talked about Zayn’s day at college.  
  
Liam came home a few minutes later, and saw the both of them on the couch. He sat on Louis’ other side, and rubbed comforting circles on Louis’ back.  
  
Louis fell asleep, feeling loved and grateful and a bit sad, but it’s okay. It’s okay.  
  
++  
  
Harry feels like shit, he feels dirty and disgusting and he feels like a slut.  
  
He closed his eyes as he took the pounding, and the “ahh fuck, fuck yeah, that’s it, oh fuck” and the fact that he didn’t even know his name.  
  
He moaned when the guy’s cock hit his prostate, and arched off the bed as he came all over his stomach. The guy followed a few seconds later, and rolled off Harry, both of them coming down from their high.  
  
“Thanks,” the guy (Matt? Marty? Harry couldn’t remember) said. Harry simply nodded in return.  
  
Soon, Harry hears the guy snoring loudly and he turned onto his side, his eyes prickling with hot tears. He wished he was anyone else but himself right now. He wished he could sleep now and when he wakes up everything will be perfect and he’ll still be living with his mum and sister. But despite the many times Harry tried to fall asleep, he couldn’t.  
  
Harry got off the bed slowly, and put his clothes back on. He felt sticky and gross and sweaty but the room didn’t have a toilet so he quietly left.  
  
The air was extremely cold outside. Harry tightened his coat around him, but it barely helped and Harry was left shivering in the open. He had nowhere to go. But tonight, he very well preferred this than being fucked into oblivion by a stranger just so he could get a place to stay for the night.  
  
He walked a couple miles more before he felt extremely tired, and his feet felt like lead. So he went to the nearest apartment block and sat on the driveway.  
  
“Harry?” a soft voice whispered.  
  
Harry whipped around, but he didn’t see anyone on the streets.  
  
“Look up,” the voice said again, and this time Harry could make out a pair of really blue eyes and hair the colour of honey and sunshine.  
  
“Um, hi,” Harry said awkwardly.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“I’m ah, I have no place to stay for the night.”  
  
Harry felt Louis’ gaze burn into him, but he looked iridescent in the moonlight and Harry was trying not to cry.  
  
“Do you want to come in?”  
  
Harry bit his lip and looked around, unsure, but he has no choice, not really. Besides, he didn’t want to end up dead on the sidewalk and all that. So he gave Louis a smile and Louis disappeared back in. Harry heard the door click open a few seconds later, and Louis stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp and alert but slightly red and puffy, as if he had just finished crying.  
  
When Harry stepped into the house, he was surprised to see a pair of guys about his age standing in the hallway, their eyes looking at Harry curiously. One had dark hair and great jawlines and cheekbones while the other had soft brown eyes and a concerned look on his face.  
  
“Harry, these are my best mates Zayn and Liam,” Louis said after a beat of silence.  
  
“So you’re Harry,” the guy with the dark hair (Zayn?) said as he shook Harry’s hand. “I’ve been hearing some things about you.”  
  
Harry glanced at Louis, who had a bewildered look on his face. Harry hid a tiny smile because god, he looked so cute.  
  
“I’m sorry I just- I’m sorry if I woke all of you up, I can leave if you want.”  
  
“It’s okay, here, have a seat,” Liam said quietly as he led Harry to the sofa. “Shall I get you a cup of tea?”  
  
“If it’s not too much of a bother?” Harry replied meekly. He casts his gaze downwards, feeling pretty embarrassed.  
  
Liam nodded and headed to the kitchen, and Harry could hear the hushed whispers between Louis and Zayn behind his back.  
  
Thankfully, Liam appeared a few minutes later, a steaming mug in his hands, which Harry accepted, thanking the boy profusely. Zayn and Louis joined them, too, and sat on the sofa opposite him.  
  
“Harry, are you okay?” Louis asked, his voice soft. Harry looked up from his mug and his breath hitched when he finally saw the state Louis was in. The older boy looked tired, his eyes ringed in dark circles, his skin pale against the harsh fluorescent lights of the living room. But he was beautiful, in a sad and broken way but beautiful nonetheless.  
  
And Harry didn’t know how he never noticed how amazing Louis looked, and how his voice is so soft he could feel it whispering along his skin.  
  
Harry shrugged, because he wasn’t okay but he didn’t want Louis to know.  
  
“What did you mean when you said you didn’t have anywhere to stay for the night?” Louis asked again.  
  
“I, um,” Harry looked at his hands. “My best mate Niall is um, out of town, and I can only use his house in the day because, um, his friends use his apartment for parties most nights so I had to um, find other places to stay but tonight didn’t feel right, you know? I didn’t even, um, I didn’t even know what the guy’s name was. I don’t even have like my own house and shit. I’m so pathetic. Fuck.”  
  
“You can stay here for the night,” Liam said softly. “You can have the couch, we have extra blankets and pillows.”  
  
Harry nodded but didn’t say anything.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking into Louis’ eyes.  
  
“Whatever are you sorry for?” Louis asked, frowning.  
  
“Everything. This,” Harry waved his hand about.  
  
Silence.  
  
“It’s late,” Louis finally replied, his mouth set into a faint smile. “Get to sleep, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?”  
  
Zayn and Liam went upstairs to grab the blankets, so Harry was left alone with Louis. He felt vulnerable, and his hands were still shaking from his outburst. The two of them sat there in silence, not knowing what to say or what to start with.  
  
And tonight, as Louis laid on his bed and Harry on the couch, they could only hear the beating of their heart and the occasional sound of a passing car.  
  
They couldn’t sleep, and as the tendrils of dawn stretched across the rooms, Louis and Harry finally drifted off to sleep, their thoughts racing faster than a racehorse.  
  
++  
  
Harry woke up to sunlight pouring through the windows. He looked around, slightly alarmed, momentarily forgotten where he was and why the fuck he was sleeping on a couch.  
  
“Liam and Zayn already left,” a voice said from behind. Harry swivelled his head around, his head still fuzzy from sleep, his mouth heavy and sour.  
  
“Oh,” he rasped.  
  
Louis cocked his head to the side, his gaze landing softly on Harry, and a small smile played on his lips. Harry suddenly felt super conscious about his hair and face, and… why is Louis laughing at him?  
  
“Why are you laughing at me?” Harry grumbled as he got off the couch and walked over to Louis.  
  
“Nothing,” Louis covered his mouth, his eyes crinkling as he tried to stop giggling. “It’s just that you look really pretty this morning.”  
  
Harry looked over at the nearest reflective area and stopped short when he saw himself.  
  
“ _What the fuck_ ,” he breathed.  
  
His hair was tied into little bunches, and his face was covered in make-up. He looked like a clown who was trying to pass off as a woman in her twenties. He felt Louis beside him, patting his head even though Harry was a full head taller than the older boy.  
  
Without warning, he growled and tickled Louis’ side playfully until he was pressing Louis up against the wall, with Louis begging for “sweet sweet mercy, Jesus save me!”. Harry stopped tickling Louis, if only to flick the boy’s nose.  
  
Louis didn’t realise how close they were standing until he could practically feel Harry breathing down his neck and he stopped laughing. His back was pressing against the wall and the world seemed so quiet all of a sudden that Louis could only hear their breathing.  
  
Louis swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Harry was looking at him amusedly, his lashes framing those green eyes that Louis couldn’t look away from. All he could think right now is  _harryharryharry_  and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. It was as if Harry was poison and Louis was intoxicated by him.  
  
Harry stared down at the quivering boy in front of him, his gaze taking in how pretty his eyes are, like an oasis in the middle of a desert, how his breath smells like minty toothpaste, how his hair looks soft and windswept, and how his lips look pale and pink and so fucking  _kissable_.

He leaned into the space separating them, slowly, because he didn’t want to scare the boy off, but Louis looked away.  
  
“I gotta, um, get some breakfast,” Louis whispered quietly. “You should go shower. First room on the left.”  
  
Harry pursed his lips, but walked off, his back to Louis. Louis closed his eyes and sighed. He was fucked. He was well and truly fucked.  
  
++  
  
When Harry got out of the shower, he slipped on a t-shirt he assumed to be Louis’ because his button down was damp with sweat and cum and he wanted to burn it. He figured he could return it soon, but how likely is  _that_. He sat at the end of the bed, not really wanting to go downstairs and see Louis.  
  
It was a dick move, to move in on Louis like that, and Harry cringed at himself. He barely even knew the boy yet Louis probably thinks Harry wants to be in his pants already. Ugh, Harry groaned. He flopped himself on the bed, his damp hair a cool halo around his head. A knock sounded at the door, and Harry bolted upright.  
  
Louis peeked his head in, his hands covering his eyes. “Um are you done dressing?”  
  
 _Fuck_ , Harry thought. He’s so fucking  _endearing_ , literally  _what the fuck_.  
  
“I was going to say I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot, I’m- oh.” Louis says when he sees Harry sitting on  _his_  bed, in  _his_  shirt, smirking at him. “You’re done okay I’m uh, I just- yeah I did mean it, I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me, I’m just horrible at this kinda thing?”  
  
“Louis,” Harry started, not really sure how to say it because he was also not very good at this, since the only thing he ever knew was one-time fucks. Which he still hasn’t explained to Louis yet. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”  
  
They both stood in silence, not knowing what to say when Harry finally breaks the silence. “So, breakfast?”  
  
There was a shadow of a smile on Louis’ lips as he turned on his heels and headed towards the kitchen, where two plates of eggs sat on the table.  
  
“Tea?” Louis asked.  
  
“Yes please, two sugars and one cream.”  
  
The ate breakfast quietly, enjoying each other’s presence despite the thing, whatever it was, that happened a few minutes ago. When they finished their tea and eggs, Louis asked if he wanted to watch a movie with him in the living room.  
  
“Don’t you have work?” Harry asked.  
  
“Nah,” Louis replied. “I’m off today, Stan’s got Aiden to help him out today.”  
  
So that’s that. They settled in front of the television, the opening scene for Love Actually starting to play. Louis sat at the far end of the couch, as was Harry, but they needed the space, and neither was complaining.  
  
“Hey Harry,” Louis asked sometime during the movie. “Why didn’t you take up on a proper gig?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry replied after a few seconds of consideration. “Wanted the easy way out, I think. Looking for gigs and everything seemed pretty exhausting.”  
  
They didn’t speak for a while after that, but soon Louis asked another question, and then another, random questions, mostly, like what his favourite colour was (blue), his favourite ice cream (peanut butter) and favourite band (the 1975). Harry had also asked Louis a few questions, like where he was from (Doncaster) and what his favourite movie was (Grease).  
  
Harry’s phone buzzed in his pockets.  
  
 _Heyyy im bak 2nite, stayin overr? X – N_  
  
 _Yeah sure, am at a friend’s house so I’ll see you later? .xx – H_  
  
 _Alri oh nd get me a takeaway b4 u come? Chinese is fine. Thx haz yer a pal X – N_  
  
 _See you nialler .xx - H_  
  
That was when Louis asked Harry a question that surprised him. “Are you happy, Harry?”  
  
He looked at Louis, who was gazing at him with soft blue eyes, and Harry could see how tired the blues look, how heavy they are, as if he had experienced some things in his life that was too painful to be reminded of.  
  
He looked away, because he didn’t want Louis to look into his eyes and see the things he could never say.  
  
“No one is, are they?”  
  
And they had left it at that, in some sort of mutual agreement, the quiet cocooning both boys until they drifted off to sleep, the credits of the movie slowly rolling off the screen.  
  
++  
  
Harry woke up when he hears the front door open, and saw Liam and Zayn enter the house. The duo, who were in an engaging conversation, stopped abruptly when they saw Harry on the couch.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled sleepily. “We were watching a movie and I fell asleep.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Liam shrugged. “Where’s Louis?”  
  
Harry looked over to the other end of the couch and frowned. “Probably upstairs. Hey listen, my mate Niall’s back tonight so I should probably head over to pick him up. Thanks so much for your hospitality.”  
  
“It’s alright, mate,” Zayn smiled. “Here, before you leave, let me give you my number just in case you need anything, yeah?  
  
They exchanged numbers, and Liam and Zayn waved Harry off as he walked home.  
  
++  
  
Niall didn’t get home in the end.  
  
“Sorry, Haz, I’ve suddenly got a very important thing on, fuck, I’m so sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay, Ni, I’ll kip at a mate’s house, yeah?”  
  
“You can still stay over at my place, you know.”  
  
“Nah it’s okay, Cher’s just texted to say she’ll be using your house tonight and I don’t fancy hanging around.”  
  
“Okay, Haz. Stay safe, alri? I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“Bye, Ni.”  
  
++  
  
Louis got a call from Aiden that evening, something about Stan and his first anniversary with his girlfriend and does he want to join them tonight. Louis had said yes, because, why the fuck not? He missed going to the club.  
  
He put on a pair of his tightest skinny jeans, because he hasn’t worn them in ages, and a V-neck shirt that shows off his collarbones. He wasn’t planning on getting fucked tonight, but hell, when was the last time he wore something nice?  
  
Aiden and Stan were standing outside the club, chatting to a brunette who had her arm around Stan’s. They waved Louis over when he spotted them, and entered the loud room.  
  
They went straight for the bar, where Louis and Aiden ordered jack and coke and Stan ordered shots.  
  
“How was work today?” Louis asked, not knowing what to say. Stan and his girlfriend were on the dance floor, so he was stuck with Aiden. He’s never actually met Aiden, so he was glad to be able to finally meet a fellow colleague (Louis had been too lonely at the store lately).  
  
“It was great, sold a couple of One Republics and Bon Iver’s.”  
  
“Wanna dance?”  
  
Aiden shrugged, but he smiled. “Sure, why not?”  
  
Louis let Aiden drag him to the dance floor, when Louis saw a very familiar mane of brown curls over Aiden’s shoulder. He frowned.  
  
The other boy must have sensed Louis’ change in mood because he looked at Louis and asked if he wanted to go and sit down. Louis shook his head and said that he was fine. Aiden smiled tentatively at Louis before putting his hands on Louis’ lower back, which Louis didn’t disapprove because he had missed this, this dancing thing and Aiden was really nice and not complicated and does not make his insides curl up on itself.  
  
But he wasn’t Harry, and Louis was aware they weren’t even together but it felt wrong. He sighed and pushed Aiden slowly off him, sighing.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood tonight.”  
  
“It’s okay. Hey I gotta go to the bathroom for a while okay?”  
  
While Aiden disappeared in the bathroom, Louis looked around for the guy with the curls. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be Harry, because he kinda missed him already, missed his stupid dimples and stupid laugh, but he also didn’t want to see him here with someone else who wasn’t him.  
  
And oh.  
  
Oh.  
  
Harry was right in front of him, his face practically merged into another guy’s, both very oblivious to a wide-eyed Louis standing in front of them. Louis couldn’t move, his feet planted firmly on the ground as Harry’s moans filled Louis’ ears like screeching nails, scratching at every part of Louis until he felt overwhelmed by a flash of anger? Hurt? Confusion? His mind was reeling, and he felt so stupid and dumb.  
  
He shook his head, and sprinted out of the club, into the streets, and he didn’t stop running until he reached Zayn’s house. The pair were out of town for the night, and Louis slammed the door shut, curling into a ball at a corner in his room. He dialled Zayn’s number, but no one picked up.  
  
He stared at the door and tried to breathe. But his cries and sobs mixed with gasps as he tried to get oxygen in his lungs but it was so difficult.  
  
He suddenly remembers how his Dad had smelt whenever he came home, stinking of alcohol and tobacco and sweat.  
  
He remembers how Harry had looked in the club, all sweaty and flushed and possibly very drunk.  
  
He remembers how his Dad had swung his bottle of rum at his mother, while he clung to her, unable to help. He had felt so hurt and betrayed.  
  
He remembers Harry kissing the guy who wasn’t him, kissing the guy until his lips were red and swollen.  
  
He remembers how he had crawled into his room the night his Dad got arrested for putting his mum in the hospital.  
  
He remembers how Harry had tried to kiss him in the kitchen, as if he had been wanting Louis this whole time.  
  
He remembers how he had run a razor across his arm and watched as rivulets of blood spilled from the wound, filling him with a sense of relief.  
  
He remembers the loose screw under his bed.  
  
And that was the last thing he remembered.  
  
++  
  
“Mmmph yeah, fuck, yeah,” Harry moaned. “Yeah, that’s it.”  
  
He felt his cock hit the guy’s throat and a wave of arousal hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He was panting from all the face-fucking, but he was hard and horny and the guy’s mouth was so good. He had his hands clutching at the guy’s hair for so long he was surprised to see he wasn’t bald yet.  
  
The guy (Greg, or something) took Harry into his mouth again, licking the slit of Harry’s cock and Harry arched off the bed, his hips jerking in needy motions. He was so, so close.  
  
“Come on, baby, come for me,” Greg whispered, and Harry crumbled. His hips shook as he spurts all over his stomach. He closed his eyes from the force of the orgasm and his lips met with Greg’s a bit forcefully. Their teeth clashed, but Harry didn’t mind. He could taste himself in Greg’s mouth and he shouldn’t be turned on by it but he was.  
  
He felt himself get hard again, and when they shifted their bodies a bit, their cocks brushed and Harry hissed at how sensitive he was.

  
“More, Greg,” Harry pleaded, rutting up against the other boy, their lips still locked in a frenzy. He gasped when Greg pulled his hair. “ _Fuck_. Yeah, Jesus, fuck, I think I’m gonna-“  
  
Harry yelped as he came for the second time, Greg joining him a few seconds after. They panted, coming down from their orgasms, and they settled back on the bed for a while before cleaning themselves up.  
  
Harry was just about to drift off to sleep when his phone rang shrilly from the bedside table.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Harry.”  
  
“Zayn?”  
  
“Harry, you’re in town, yeah? At your mate’s? Niall’s was it?”  
  
Harry swallowed. He might have forgotten to mention the change of plans.  
  
“Um, yeah.”  
  
“It’s Louis.”  
  
Harry sat up straighter at the mention of Louis. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I- I don’t know,” Zayn said, his voice slightly panicky. “He called at about half past ten but my phone wasn’t with me and I called him back but no one answered.”  
  
“Zayn, he might already been sleeping… It’s midnight?”  
  
“No, Harry, fuck, do you know Louis at all?”  
  
Harry bit his lip. He really hadn’t known the boy at all, except that he came back into town a couple  months back.  
  
“Harry,” Zayn said softly. “Louis tried to kill himself last year.”  
  
Oh. “Oh.”  
  
“It wasn’t- we thought he was okay, because when he was released from the hospital he said he was okay and he was, for the most part. Fuck I don’t know, I’m not taking any chances. Can you please check on him?”  
  
Harry jumped out of bed, pulling into his jeans and shirt, and rushed out the room. “I’m on my way.”  
  
++  
  
 _Beep. Beep. Beep._  
  
Louis couldn’t breathe. He was drowning, sinking, further and further into his dreams. He felt as if he was floating in space, his senses numb and his soul empty.  
  
There were noises in the room, hushed whispers, he thinks. But he still couldn’t open his eyes.  
  
It was bright, he could tell. And the voices are starting to become familiar. He could feel someone holding his hand. He could smell the strong whiff of cinnamon and cologne and tobacco. He could hear the deep, raspy voice, willing him to wake up.  
  
But he couldn’t. Or he wouldn’t, he’s not too sure anymore.  
  
++  
  
Louis dreamed of boy with dimples and emerald eyes and curly brown hair that frames his face. He dreamed of his voice, warm and soothing, like honey and lemon.  
  
And the boy was strumming his guitar, with a smile that masked a thousand lies, but his face was one of sincerity, if not a bit mischievous.  
Louis has seen him before, but he couldn’t remember, not really. His mind was foggy and his arms hurt.  
  
His arms hurt so bad.  
  
Louis cried out, jolting awake from the dream. It felt too real. He opened his eyes and saw a pair of shocking green staring at him, and yes, everything crashed back to him.  
  
He curled into himself as he stared at the other boy, his eyes full of fear.  
  
Fear that the boy had gotten to him and how he had impacted his life so much he couldn’t breathe, he was suffocating.  
  
“I saw you,” Louis stuttered.  
  
Harry looked at Louis, confused.  
  
“I saw you at the- the bar.”  
  
Oh. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he remembered dancing and making out with Greg. Louis hadn’t- fuck.  
  
“Louis, I can explain,” Harry pleaded. But Louis was still staring at him, horrified, and Harry hated himself for it. He had been so stupid and self-centred that he didn’t even stop to think what it would mean to Louis if he found out.  
  
Harry stood up to leave, but Louis didn’t want him to go, not really. Because maybe, maybe he didn’t mind being suffocated by a certain boy named Harry Styles.  
  
“Harry,” he croaked out. “Don’t leave me, please.”  
  
Harry paused, his hand on the doorknob. He sighed. “I’m not good for you, Louis.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“I can’t- I can’t always be there for you when you need me. Fuck, if I was too late last night,” Harry’s voice cracked. “If I was a second late because I was too fucking selfish I would’ve lost you and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”  
  
“Harry, come here, please?”  
  
Louis reached out at Harry’s hands tentatively, as if he was afraid that the younger boy’s going to hurt him again. But he’s not going to be fucking weak anymore. He was tired of it. And so he took Harry’s hands in his. His bandaged wrists a stark difference on his tan skin.  
  
“We’re both fucked up, aren’t we?” He said quietly, tugging at his hands until their foreheads are touching.  
  
Harry sighed, his eyes closed as he leaned into the touch. “I wish we weren’t. Things would be easier, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“If we weren’t who we were we wouldn’t have met each other.”  
  
Harry opened his eyes to gaze into Louis’ blue ones, and Louis gasped when he felt Harry’s warm lips on his. He felt a flutter of panic in his gut but he pushed it down. He wasn’t going to fuck it up, not this time.  
  
The kiss was gentle, and soft, and slow, like they had all the time in the world. And Louis liked the idea of that. He whimpered when Harry licked his bottom lip, and the younger boy didn’t hesitate when Louis opened up his mouth.

"Mmmph," Louis breathed when their lips tangled. Harry tasted like maple syrup and coffee and cotton candy and Louis could get used to this, he thinks.  
  
Louis was reluctant when he pulled away from Harry, his hands on the boy’s chest as they looked sadly at each other.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
“I have a gig tonight,” Harry said suddenly.  
  
“A proper one?”  
  
“Yeah, Zayn helped me find one at a pub.”  
  
Louis couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. “I’m so, so proud of you for doing this.”  
  
“And I’m sorry, Louis. I- I should’ve told you.”  
  
“It’s okay, Harry, we weren’t exclusive or anything. I was stupid to think that you we were, you know?”  
  
“Louis,” Harry stared at him. “I didn’t sleep with guys solely because I wanted to get in their pants. I had to because I  had nowhere to stay and I didn’t want to bother you and Liam and Zayn. I thought you needed some space.”  
  
And really, Louis felt so stupid and embarrassed that he groaned and covered his face.  
  
“I’m so dumb, fucking hell.”  
  
He felt a pair of warm hands tugging at his own, and Louis looked up shyly to see Harry smiling at him, his grin apologetic.  
  
“You are an idiot, Louis Tomlinson, but you are my idiot.”  
  
Louis swatted his hand away but his gaze was fond. “You’re such a sap, you weirdo. And, apology accepted.”  
  
“You know that whatever happens after this, we’ll somehow find each other right?”  
  
“Destiny and all that shit?”  
  
Harry laughed, a deep guffaw that spread happiness into Louis’ heart. “And all that shit.”  
  
++  
  
Louis was discharged a week later, but he was due to go to his previous hospital back in Doncaster.  
  
Harry got approached by two men in suits, who offered him a recording contract in America when he finished performing at his third gig.  
  
“You need to take that opportunity, Harry,” Louis had said when Harry told him the news.  
  
“But it’s in America and we’ll be so far from each other.”  
  
“Harry, we can’t- we need to figure shit out for ourselves, you know that. We can’t do that when we’re around each other.”  
  
“Are you breaking up with me?”  
  
Louis smiled sadly at Harry. “We weren’t even together in the first place, Harry Styles. We just happen to meet each other at the right place, probably, but at the wrong time.”  
  
“I still care about you, though. I may or may not also love you.”  
  
“Maybe I do too,” Louis had said. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to say I love you.”  
  
++  
  
Harry smiled to himself as he spots Louis hiding behind the walls, probably trying to scare him. He sometimes wonders if Louis was twelve instead of twenty-one.  
  
“Boo!” Louis yelled when Harry turned the corner. His slightly manic expression turned into a pout when he sees Harry laughing at him. “Why were you not surprised?”  
  
“I have the willpower of a warrior. Come on, let’s have breakfast and we can drive off to the airport. Don’t want to miss your flight, do you? Got all your things ready?”  
  
“Yes, mum,” Louis grumbled as he took his seat across Harry. He took a forkful of scrambled eggs and moaned at the perfect combination of cheese and eggs and milk. “This is so good.”  
  
“I can make a lot of things good,” Harry winked cheekily at Louis. He was met in the face by a wad of tissue paper.  
  
"Hey!" Harry yelped.  
  
"Take your mind out of the gutter, there are children here."  
  
"By children do you mean you?"  
  
Louis chucked a piece of pancake at Harry. "Shut up."  
  
“Ugh you two are like a married couple,” Zayn grinned as he and Liam entered the kitchen, Niall tagging along behind them.  
  
“Hello, last time I checked, so are you and Liam,” Niall pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one who stayed at someone’s bedside for three days straight.”  
  
“Hey it was worth it,” Harry protested.  
  
The five of them settled into an easy banter and it was, without a doubt, the happiest day of Louis’ entire life.  
  
++  
  
When they reached the airport, Harry and Louis were so entangled in each other’s arms that it was impossible to separate them. They were in their own little world, hushed whispers and deep sighs and a hint of sadness, but it was alright.  
  
And it wasn’t the end, not really, because if fate wanted them to meet, they would. Who knows? Maybe they’ll meet in the streets of New York one day, or Chicago, or Brisbane, or London.

“So,” Louis smiled when they reached the departure hall. “This is it.”

“This is it.” Harry whispered.

“Good luck, Harry Styles.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

Harry wrapped Louis in a tight hug before planting his lips firmly on Louis’ forehead. “Safe trip, Louis.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“I'll see you soon, Louis.”

"I'm counting on it."

And as Harry watched Louis walk away, he may or may not have felt a bit lighter.

  
++  
  
“ _And I built a home  
For you  
For me  
Until it disappeared  
From me  
From you  
And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust_ ”  
  
\- The Cinematic Orchestra, “To Build A Home”  
  
++  
  
fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for jen and bea and yj who are some of the cutest louisandharry shippers around :)
> 
> Do leave a comment or give me some loveee thank you for reading. xx


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